


In Which John Gets Sacked

by thequeergiraffe



Series: The Spaces In-between [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Sherlock is a Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequeergiraffe/pseuds/thequeergiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Apparently the surgery has rules about conduct, and Sherlock barging in-- soaked in blood, clutching a tomahawk-- defies quite a few of them.</p><p>(Can be a read as a standalone.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which John Gets Sacked

"We need to discuss our finances, Sherlock."

A low groan. "I  _hate_  discussing finances. So tedious. Can't you just figure it out on your own?"

"Well, sure, that was easy enough yesterday. But in case you hadn't deduced it already, I got terminated at work today. So. Now we need to discuss our finances."

"I fail to see how  _your_ getting sacked is  _my_ problem."

"Well, since  _you're_ the one that got me sacked in the first place-"

"Now, now, John, we're both adults. I know we have our fun but I can hardly agree that I'm solely to blame for your poor performance at the surgery."

"Interestingly enough, Sherlock, it was  _your_ performance at the surgery that lost me my job."

"Oh, here we go! The incident again!"

"Yes, the incident! The incident! Did you think they'd just let that go? You scared poor Mrs. Henley near to death."

"Psh. Come off it. All I did was bump her down in queue-"

"You stormed into my office, soaked in blood, tomahawk in hand, pointed at Mrs. Henley and told her 'You're next'. I'm sorry, Sherlock, but that's pretty much the most frightening and ambiguous way of jumping someone in queue I can imagine."

"It was  _my own blood,_  John! And of course I said 'you're next'; I meant next in line. As in, hullo Mrs. Henley, could you please step out into the hall because I'm reasonably certain I'm bleeding to death, thanks so much pet, give us a kiss before you go."

"Which reminds me: why on Earth did you come to the surgery instead of going straight to the A & E?"

"I spend half of my free time in Bart's, John, I know the idiots that work there. Besides, I was closer to you anyway."

"Right. Of course. And the tomahawk came into play because…?"

"I  _told_ you, I was investigating the likelihood of its use as a murder weapon in the case I was working on."

"Well for God's sake, Sherlock, you could have called me."

"I prefer to text."

"Well then you could have  _texted_ , blimey. You're really oblivious, you know that?"

"Oh, calm down. I've got a new case and I need you free anyway. You can work out a payment with the client, and I'll put my brainpower to  _good_ use."

"…That…that sounds fine, actually. That could work."

"Good, see? No more moaning about blood and tomahawks and  _poor_ Mrs. Henley. Let's put it behind us."

"That's exceptionally diplomatic of you, Sherlock."

"Hmph. Great, grand, excellent. Now fetch me my mobile; I need to send Lestrade a text."

"Where is it?"

"My pocket."

"Your-." A deep breath. "Right. Here you go, you're welcome. I'm going to go fix some tea."


End file.
